


Sick Super Soldiers Are Poor Decision Makers

by whispersofdelirium



Category: Captain America, Captain America (Movies), MCU, Marvel, Stucky - Fandom
Genre: M/M, One Shot, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Short One Shot, inspired by a gif from queer as folk, just a cold, sick!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-23 22:56:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9685589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whispersofdelirium/pseuds/whispersofdelirium
Summary: Steve could still get sick. Who knew? Thank his lucky stars Bucky is away on a mission and he can hide away until he feels better.Too bad sometimes missions end earlier than expected.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Story of Steve being a stubborn shit until Bucky lays down the law
> 
> [Cross Post on my FF writing Tumblr. Follow for any first look at fics](http://whispersofdelirium.tumblr.com)
> 
> [Personal blog follow for the eclectic shitposts that grab my attention](http://deliriumsetin.tumblr.com)

Thank God for corporate symposiums in Switzerland or where ever Tony currently was. Steve had stopped listening to Tony explain right around the time Bucky started texting him, bitching about how dealing with Russian winter was so much easier when he was brainwashed. Too soon, Bucky, too soon.

Back to Tony, the reason Steve was downright thankful the man was out of the country was because Steve seemed to have a slight problem. Nothing major. Nothing he couldn’t handle but Steve Rogers, Super Soldier Steve, the Star Spangled Man himself had a fever and a head cold that made him wish for death.

Steve was already the butt of too many of Stark’s jokes.

He didn’t need the man making fun of him for his kitten like sneezes, or constantly banging his elbows into things since his depth perception was off. He was a genetically modified soldier for Pete’s sake! It was bad enough that Clint had seen him earlier, sneezing so hard he had actually launched himself back into the wall. A wall that currently had a Steve sized dent in it. He’d deal with it when he felt better which was hopefully soon.

While trying to ignore his guilt over the ruined wall he finally was able to get back to his shared apartment in the compound with four large grocery bags dragging down his arms. He groaned in relief as the door shut behind him and he could finally drop the bags on the kitchen counter and took a step back. It would have been easier to grab that instant in a can soup that had taken over but they never tasted right. It was also only after he had started his drive home that he realized he couldn’t really taste anything anyway so what would it have mattered?

A louder groan fell from Steve’s lips as he rested his forehead against the cabinet in front of him. He stood there for ten solid minutes trying to will his body to move and obey him. If only he could get his arms to move and start the soup. Too bad his own arms weren’t responding. Traitors.

An alert from his phone finally dragged Steve away from the cabinet. Another two beeps sounded just as he pulled it and glared upon seeing Clint’s name appear three times.

“Screw this,” he muttered as he turned off his phone and shuffled over to the couch. It looked so inviting and lovely. With a happy sigh, he collapsed into the slightly beat up big comfy couch. Soup could wait.

Everything hurt was the first thing Steve thought as he woke up from his nap. Everything hurt and he was already done with it all. The loud banging of the front door must have startled him awake since he now could hear the shuffling of Bucky’s footsteps as he started to throw his shit everywhere. If Steve had more energy he’d get up and throw one of Bucky’s boots at the man in question and tell him to act like a damn adult.

Wait! Bucky was home? Steve quickly scrambled up and peered over the side of the couch just in time to see his boyfriend make his way into their shared bedroom. He wasn't supposed to be home for another two days. That was Steve’s made up timeline for not being sick anymore. 

Steve tried to slink off the couch but ended up banging his knee into the coffee table and falling flat onto the floor. Bucky cursed from the bedroom which was quickly followed by a shout of panic and a thud. A moment later Steve finally got to his feet, rubbing his aching knee as Bucky came darting out of the bedroom with one gun drawn, pajama pants pulled up awkwardly.

“Jesus, Stevie,” he sighed out as he thumbed the safety on and placed the gun onto an end table. “Didn’t realize you were here.”

“You're home early,” Steve states as he rubbed his knee. Bucky just shrugged before moving towards his boyfriend who was now looking at him with an expression Bucky couldn’t place. He definitely saw happiness at his return but why did Steve look like a deer in the headlights?

“What’s wrong?” Steve snapped out of it as he wrapped his arms around Bucky’s torso and buried his head into his boyfriend’s neck, kissing it quickly before pulling back. Bucky brought his arms up and wrapped them around Steve’s waist.

“Nothing’s wrong?” He silently cursed his voice tilting up against his will. Definitely didn’t mean to make that into a question. Bucky just gave him a look before pulling him back in for a kiss which Steve would have happily, happily accepted except his sinuses decided to wake up then. He pulled himself back, out of Bucky’s hold, and sneezed and sneezed and sneezed. Heat rose to Steve’s cheeks, making him look extremely flushed as his eyes watered. A dry cough forced it’s way from Steve’s lungs a moment later.

Bucky just looked at him completely wide eyed. Shock stilled him a moment before he moved forward and grabbed Steve’s arm. “Steve? Buddy?” A simple groan of defeat was his boyfriend’s answer. “Are you sick?”

“No. Why would you-” And as if the fates hated him they picked that exact moment for him to start a long sneezing fit which almost knocked the super soldier straight on his ass. Bucky’s eyes narrowed as he wrapped his arm around Steve’s waist and tried to guide him back to the couch. Steve pulled away and held up his hands. “Buck, I’m fine.”

“You look awful.”

“Thanks, Buck.” He shuffled into the kitchen. “Just a bit tired. Was going to make s-s-soup,” Steve paused as he tried to will another sneeze away. He failed, grabbing the tissues out of his pocket he had shoved in earlier and holding it to his nose. “Soup. I was going to make some soup for dinner.” The words were currently slightly distorted by the tissue.

“You hate soup.” Which was very true. Before the serum when Steve had been a sickly child and then man Bucky had forced fed a lot of soup down his throat. It was easy and cheap to make plus his mother Sarah always liked to remind them it would help him get better. So Bucky used it as medicine when they couldn’t afford anything from the corner drugstore.

“I was craving it?” Steve offered up and damn it. There was that stupid tilt at the end of his sentence again.

“I thought you couldn’t get sick after the serum?” Bucky moved closer, putting both hands on his boyfriend’s elbows and tried to guide him back to the couch. Steve just huffed in annoyance as he shrugged the man off and pointedly marched to the kitchen.

“I’m not sick,” Steve muttered as he started to finally unpack all he needed for soup. “Would you like beef stock or chicken stock?” Steve turned around holding up both boxes since he was too tired at the store to decide he got both, and almost hit Bucky in the chest.

“You’re sick. Stop playing stupid and give me those.”

“Buck, I’ve got this.” Steve twisted away but not before Bucky was able to snatch both boxes of broth from him which was a good thing since Steve’s balance decided to take a short vacation then. He stumbled, banged his elbow against a cabinet before catching himself on the counter. He groaned loudly, bringing his hand to his head.

“Go back to bed and let me do this. You’re not-”

“Not what? I am perfectly capable of making damn soup for myself. I am fine!”

“Oh yeah. You’re fucking fine, huh?” Steve just glared at him before turning around and grabbing a knife. The cutting board he slid out from behind the bread box before he set up to cut onions. “You’re going to sneeze and take a finger off. Stop being an idiot.”

“Go away, Buck.” He glared at the man behind him a moment before he went back to cutting up the onions. A deep growl reached his ears a moment before the knife was pulled him his hand by an unseen force. Steve looked up and the knife was now stuck to Bucky’s metal arm, the metal arm he could randomly turn magnetic when he wanted. A perk Stark had installed a few months ago. “That’s cheating!”

“I’m going to say this once and only once. You are going to get your ass into our bed, make a damn nest out of the blankets like we used to do and let me make the fucking soup. Then you’re going to eat the damn soup until you’re better.” Steve’s eyes widened drastically and if he wasn’t so sick he’d definitely be turned on right now.

“I could at least help,” Steve supplied pitifully before this massive death glare cross Bucky’s face. 

“Steven Grant Edward Rogers, bed now!” And with that Steven Grant Edward Rogers, a.k.a the Super Soldier walked to their bedroom with his tail tucked between his legs.

**Author's Note:**

> [Cross Post on my FF writing Tumblr. Follow for any first look at fics](http://whispersofdelirium.tumblr.com)
> 
> [Personal blog follow for the eclectic shitposts that grab my attention](http://deliriumsetin.tumblr.com)


End file.
